


fool me twice

by Xalts



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)
Genre: M/M, Mirrors, Multi, Selfcest, m... making out with mirrors?, yes you read those relationship tags right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xalts/pseuds/Xalts
Summary: Commission for a friend who asked for Bruce/Batman/Joker.Yes, these are the LEGO versions. I'm very sorry.





	fool me twice

The suit really did look good, Bruce thought to himself as he looked in the mirror. The way it hugged his curves, especially his toned chest and subtle hips, accentuated them in a way no other item of clothing could do. He trailed his fingers up the cold surface of the mirror, tracing the reflection of his thighs, his groin, his stomach. Part of the thrill came from the fact that Alfred didn’t usually let him wear the suit in the manor, but most of it came from the idea of Batman as a different person, a stranger, perhaps, who appeared before the humble Bruce Wayne and offered him his hand--

Bruce paused as his outstretched hand bumped against the mirror. It was easy to get carried away with fantasies, but thinking of Batman as a separate entity to himself usually helped with his thought processes, letting him compartmentalise ideas as ‘Bruce’ or ‘Batman’. Sure, maybe it wasn’t healthy, but it worked for him. Looking up and down his reflection once more, and then checking the door to make sure Alfred wasn’t lurking (or Dick, he added, though he was sure he’d hear the kid coming a mile away), he pulled on the cowl, tugging it into place over his head and face until the image in the mirror no longer resembled Bruce Wayne in any capacity.

Closing his eyes, he gently touched his chest with one gloved hand. The thick kevlar covering his torso dulled the sensation. Tutting a little, he pulled off the glove and tried again. Now the roles were reversed - he couldn’t feel the touches to his chest, but he could feel the texture of the body armor against his fingertips. He, Bruce, was touching him, Batman, on the chest. He let the bare fingers drift upwards, towards the gathering of cape at his neck, then up more to touch his own face.

The illusion broke slightly there. Feeling both sides of the sensation through both hand and cheek reminded him that he was just a single man, touching himself alone in his bedroom. Determined not to let it deter him, though, he pulled the glove back on and put the now-covered hand to his lips. The roles had switched once more - now he, Batman, was touching him, Bruce, on the mouth, gently tracing the outline of his lips and dipping one finger slightly between them, brushing ever so lightly against the tip of his tongue.

He wondered what it would be like to kiss himself.

Bruce knew he was a good kisser. After all, the string of girlfriends he’d had, purely for the sake of the public eye, of course, had some degree of testament to it. But Batman… Batman wasn’t that experienced. He’d only kissed a few women, and most of them had also kissed Bruce. Bruce paused at that thought, at the slight jolt of indescribable feeling he had at the idea of sharing a partner with the Batman, but he pushed it aside before anything more could come of it. After all, another feeling made its presence known more intensely - a bubbling, painful feeling of envy, deep in his gut. And he understood it, too. He knew what it was directed towards.

He was jealous that he couldn’t kiss Batman.

He looked up at the reflection before him. Well, he thought. There’s Batman. And here he was. There was nothing stopping him from trying.

Ignoring the slight embarrassment curling up through his stomach, he took a step closer to the mirror. From here, he could see every fold in the cape, every crease on the cowl. He saw how they bunched up closer around Batman’s eyebrows, accentuating his scowl, and the more subtle ones, like where his nose wrinkled when he was angry. He raised his hand up to the glass surface, wishing he could smooth out those wrinkles. It must be exhausting, being so angry all the time, he thought, forgetting for a moment that it was himself he was talking about.

He didn’t remember moving forwards, but suddenly his nose was touching the mirror’s surface, his slow, even breaths fogging it up. Batman’s eyes were looking straight into his own, so close that he imagined he could see bright blue beneath the white lenses. If he were to get a little closer… Like a moth flitting around a light fitting, his mouth bumped against the glass, once, twice, the mirror cold against his lips…

There was a cough behind him, and he jolted away from the mirror like he’d received an electric shock. A glance at the door showed it was still shut, as it had been before, so he turned to the window - and there, leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed, stood the Joker.

“Am I interrupting something?” he quipped, one eyebrow raised cockily. Batman took one subtle step away from the mirror, immediately switching into business mode.

“What do you want, Joker?” he snapped, and then realised a more pertinent question: “Why are you here?”

The Joker uncrossed his arms, standing up straight. “I could ask you the same thing, Bats,” he replied, gesturing to the room with one arm. “Isn’t this Bruce Wayne’s place? It takes guts to break in just to make out with a mirror.”

“I wasn’t--” Batman started, and then realised it would be a bad idea to immediately go on the defensive. “Why are you here, Joker?”

The clown hopped off the windowsill lightly, barely making a noise on the wooden floorboards, and took a few carefree steps towards the Dark Knight. “Oh, relax, Bats, I’m not up to anything,” he said. A few more steps, and he was within arms reach. Batman tensed his muscles imperceptibly, ready to counter or strike should the need arise. “Do I really need an excuse to visit my favourite dark, brooding, anti-hero?”

Batman said nothing, simply glaring from behind the cowl. The Joker took one more step, and now he was in Batman’s personal space, those long legs drawing him closer than Batman had thought he would. He stayed as still as possible.

“After all,” the Joker continued, “I’ve been working so hard lately and you’ve barely looked in my direction. I blew up an entire bridge and you just sent your Bat-brats to deal with me. I bet you didn’t even listen to my messages.” The last line was delivered in a simpering tone, close to crocodile tears, and Batman couldn’t help the way his lower eyelid twitched in response.

“I listened,” he admitted. The Joker’s face lit up into his signature grin, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“To all of them? Even the serenades?”

Batman growled, his lip curling in distaste. “Yes.”

The Joker cackled gleefully, throwing his head back. “Oh, Batsy, I knew you cared! Tell me, what did you think? How’s my singing voice - they said I could be an opera singer, you know, if I hadn’t gotten into the crime business - Do you want a reprise? I could sing for you right now.” The Joker dropped down on one knee, arms spread wide, and cleared his throat. Before he could start belting out, though, Batman struck out with one hand, grabbing the Joker’s shoulder and spinning around, using the momentum to throw the lanky man against the wall, pinning him with one forearm across his throat.

“Ooh, getting rough, aren’t we, Bats? If you hated my singing that much, you just had to tell me - or you could go the whole macho route and just punch me in the throat, you naughty boy,” the Joker squealed, his breathing shallow and eyes dilated. Batman growled again, but more hesitantly now, and then, slowly, lowered the arm holding Joker in place, letting him breath so deeply that he choked on the sudden intake of air.

“I remember what you sing like. I don’t need to hear it again,” Batman said, but despite the usual gravelly tone he adopted in cape and cowl, the words still sounded a little pathetic; like a child trying to justify himself to a parent. It made him feel small.

The Joker’s coughs gradually transitioned into laughter, and Batman let his arms drop to his sides, the cape draping over them to streamline his silhouette. He remained motionless as the Joker closed in on him, putting an arm across his shoulders and the other on his waist. “At least I know you’re thinking about me now, Batsy. That’s what I like about this - what we’ve got. You’re always thinking about me, right, Batman?” The Joker swung around now, moving to put the hand on his hip onto Batman’s other shoulder, hooking both hands under the cape to push it back, to show off more of the muscular body beneath it. “You’re always thinking about me and I’m always thinking about you. Y’know, some would say it ain’t healthy, that level of obsession. But others, like you and me… We know that it’s really about, don’t we?”

Despite Batman’s best instincts, the Joker was suddenly even closer, so close that he could feel the clown’s breath on his lower face, and he did nothing. He didn’t stop it. He didn’t stop the feeling of rough, dry lips on his own, the touch from skin so cold it might as well be dead. He had to do nothing, because if he tried anything while this was going on, he thought he’d follow his worst instincts - the ones he’d barely been holding back. So he stood still and tooks it as one of Joker’s hands went up to his face to cup one cheek and the other lazily made its way down his chest, carefully following the topography of his abdomen. The kiss was slow and heavy - before they’d shared pecks, light touches so quickly over that he was never fully sure if they were jokes, meant to taunt him, but this was in a different league altogether.

And then the Joker was pulling back with his fingertips ever so slightly under the edges of Batman’s mask, and the Dark Knight’s brain finally caught up with his instincts enough to slap the hand away, and then turn the same movement into grabbing the offending arm and twisting it behind the Joker’s back, pushing down on his shoulder blade to pin him into place.

“Aw, come on, Bats,” the Joker gasped, contorting himself to be able to look Batman in the face. “Do you really trust me so little? You know I’d never ruin the fun like that.”

And Batman knew it was the truth. That’s not something the Joker needs to know. But that just brought with it a bigger question, one that he doesn’t want to answer, because somewhere inside him, Batman knew exactly why the Joker did what he just did, and doesn’t want that to be real. He didn’t think he could handle if his greatest enemy was--

“Leave,” he snarled through gritted teeth. The Joker’s face drooped.

“But the fun was just starting! You can’t end it so soon, Batsy, it was just getting good!” he gibbered, and then yelped when Batman pressed down harder on the shoulder blade, stretching the ligaments painfully.

“Leave,” Batman said again. He threw the Joker back towards the window. The clown stumbled a little before drawing himself to full height, brushing dust off his suit.

“Well, if that’s the way you treat all your friends, it’s no wonder that your little Boy Blunders are so keen to graduate,” the Joker said. Batman laughed, a single sharp, humourless chuckle.

“We’re not friends.”

“You’re right.” The Joker smiled. “We’re much more than that. I’ll sing you another song later, Batman - something to fall asleep to.” The clown winked, and then slipped lithely through the open window, disappearing into the night.

Batman waited long enough to be sure he was gone before reaching up and tearing the cowl off. He hated how small the Joker made him feel, and yet simultaneously, how big he felt in response. A paradox, as illogical as the jester himself, that tore Bruce up from within. Hopefully, experimentally, he turned back to the mirror and touched it with gloved fingertips, but the magic had been broken, shattered by a clown with no reason to be here. 

He was just Bruce Wayne, a man playing dress-up in his dark, lonely bedroom. And he felt a fool for ever falling in love - with both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is ot3.tumblr.com come tell me if you hated reading this as much as i hated writing it


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